


Here Somewhere

by ishouldbeworkingrightnow (notjustalittlegirl)



Category: Beauchamp Family Series - Melissa de la Cruz, Witches of East End (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Crying, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Separation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustalittlegirl/pseuds/ishouldbeworkingrightnow
Summary: After Gert leaves Freddie so that she can focus on her schoolwork, he finds himself breaking down. Norman helps.





	Here Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished Winds of Salem, and this is a sort of continuation of the scene where Joanna and Norman find out that Gert left Freddie. For anyone who is reading this because they are a fan of the TV series, please go read the books. Please. 
> 
> I don't own Witches of East End, and am making no money off of this. It is purely for entertainment purposes, so please don't sue me. Hope you enjoy another one of my angsty fics, because that's all I seem to be capable of writing these days.  
> I should really be working on my The 100 Hunger Games AU. It's been 10 days since I updated. Oops.

Freddie Beauchamp did  _ not  _ like crying. 

It wasn’t as if he had a problem with blatant displays of emotion- his sister was the goddess of love, for Pete’s sake- but that didn’t mean he enjoyed lying in his bedroom in his parents’ house sobbing his eyes out on a mattress that he hadn’t slept on since he had married his wife.

He always tried not to cry. It wasn’t something that Balder or Thor would do. Even down in Limbo, where he had been wrongfully accused and lonely for too many years, Freddie had only cried once or twice, when the reality of his situation and the longing for his parents and sisters had overwhelmed him. But, now, he was clutching his pillow to his chest and screaming into it because of a woman. Crying over a woman, when he could have anyone that he wanted.

Except one woman. Gert, his beautiful wife Gert, who had broken his heart with nothing but a note. Had left what he had thought was a salvageable marriage without even telling him face-to-face.

He had held it together in front of his parents, until they had returned home and he had been able to collapse properly into his bed and release the tears he needed to shed. All of his clothes, video games, and other useless possessions were back at his and Gert’s house, and he knew that he would need a new shirt by the time he was done crying. The thing was, he didn’t know if he would be able to face going back to the house to get one if she wasn’t there. One shirt it was for the rest of his eternal life. Or, at least until his mother found out and bought him a whole new wardrobe. 

A new wave of sobbing hit, and somehow he missed the knock on the door. If there had been a knock on the door, that is. But, the first he was aware of another person in the room was when a hand slid into his golden hair and rubbed his head softly. 

He jumped, looking around for who it was, and suddenly found himself engulfed in his father’s broad chest. He tried, briefly, to cut off the flow of tears and pretend that he wasn’t breaking apart, but that effort was short-lived, especially when Norman pulled his son closer, pulling him so that Freddie was practically curled in a ball on his lap. 

Freddie gave up on his pretenses almost instantly, and buried his tearstained face in his father’s shoulder. He continued to cry, letting his father rub his back and shush him softly. Letting himself be comforted and silently reassured, clinging to the sense of safety that he felt being engulfed by his father’s arms. 

When his tears finally tapered off, after what could have been minutes or hours, Freddie felt his father give him a gentle kiss on the top of his head and a brief squeeze. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” 

Those words almost caused a new barrage of tears to come spewing from his eyes, but Freddie hiccuped, blinked, and managed to hold them back. 

“Father,” Freddie whispered, voice shaking as he struggled to regain control of it. “If she was going to leave me, why didn’t she at least say goodbye? Tell me in person instead of with a note?” 

Norman made a noise that could best be described as a comforting murmur. “I don’t know, Freddie. She should have. You don’t deserve to be hurting like this.” 

“Why? Why does… Why does it hurt so much?” 

His father’s hand rubbed up and down his back. “Oh, Freddie. Because you love her. It… It destroys a piece of you when someone you love leaves.” 

Freddie thought that love might have been it. Even though he had thought he loved Hilly, he had never felt this shattered when he realized that she would never love him back. He knew he loved Gert, but the only side of love that he was familiar with was the beautiful and kind love that he saw from Freya. He had never seen this side of love. He had never felt true heartbreak, and he could only hope that there was nothing worse than this that could be felt. 

Freddie couldn’t see, but his father bit his lip and closed his eyes to hold back his own tears. “When Jo… When your mother left me, I didn’t want to believe that it was true. I didn’t want to think that there was even a possibility she didn’t love me anymore, and when I finally managed to accept that unacceptable idea, I didn’t want to live anymore.” 

Freddie made a noise that Norman took to be either sympathy or concern, and he tightened his arms around his father’s torso. “What I’m trying to say, sweetheart, is that I understand what you’re going through right now. And you know that I’m always here for you if you want to talk, or even if you don’t. I love you so much, Freddie. Your mother loves you, and Ingrid loves you, and Freya loves you even if she isn’t here to tell you. We’re here for you, and we want you to be happy.”

Freddie sniffled, and Norman squeezed his only son as tightly as he possibly could, ignoring the fact that his son’s tears had soaked through his shirt and dampened his chest. Freddie’s face was still pressed against his shoulder, and he didn’t ever want to let go of his little boy for any reason in the world. 

Especially when he heard “Thank you, faðir. I love you, too,” whispered softly in his ear by a voice that reminded him of a simpler time, when Freddie had been Fryr and Norman had been Nord, and he had held his young son on his lap and read little stories to him. 

“I know, darling. I know.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
